


I Think I Can Handle It

by aceschwarz222



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel (Comics)
Genre: BAMF Clint Barton, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Clint Barton Feels, Clint Barton-centric, Deaf Clint Barton, F/M, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Protective Clint Barton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 01:35:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11544699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceschwarz222/pseuds/aceschwarz222
Summary: After escaping a HYDRA facility with flash drives full of information, you run away to an Avenger you think can help you out of this mess. The thing is...he's kind of a mess himself.





	I Think I Can Handle It

You walked quickly down the dark streets, trying not to draw attention to yourself. An escaped HYDRA prisoner, you had spent the last week on the run from your captors. The fact that you stole a few flash drives with highly sensitive HYDRA intel meant you had also parted on pretty bad terms. You ran to the only place you could think to go to find someone to help you:

New York City.

You knew the Avengers lived in New York City, but you had only been able to get to Brooklyn so far. Your telepathic powers were weakening, and after an insanely close scare with some HYDRA folks earlier this afternoon, you knew you needed to rest and recover before trying to get any farther. You needed to be able to detect where the HYDRA operatives were in order to keep yourself out of danger. Thankfully, you had glimpsed at the Avengers’ folders on the flash drive and discovered one of them lived in Brooklyn. He owned his own apartment building, in fact.

And that’s where you stood now. The building looked normal enough with four stories and a fire escape running down the left side. You closed your eyes and used the last of your energy to figure out which apartment you needed.

“Apartment H,” you murmured as you opened your eyes. “That’s it.” You walked past a large tan van that held a few guys in god-awful track suits.

“Yo bro,” you heard one of them say. “We need to wait for him to come out, bro. Then we kill him this time. You feel me, bro?”

The other goons nodded in agreement. You shook your head and filed their conversation away in the back of your mind. You had much more urgent matters to attend to now. You quickly opened the door to the building and headed straight for apartment H.

The H hung crookedly on the door, and it seemed to bounce as you knocked three times. A  dog barked from inside the apartment, and you stepped back nervously. Clenching your jaw, you prayed that you were right about this guy. He needed to help you get to the Avenger’s Tower.

Eventually, the dog’s barking subsided, and the doorknob turned. Your jaw dropped as you stared at the man before you.

He looked like he got run over by a truck. Athletic tape covered various spots on his face and arms. A large gauze wrapping was tied tightly from his left wrist all the way up to his elbow. A nice black bruise covered his right eye, and his white shirt looked like it had seen better days.  **_He_ ** looked like he had seen better days.

“Are...are you Clint Barton?” you asked cautiously.

He tilted his head and looked at you curiously. He tapped his index finger to his chin and then waved an open hand under it. You stared at him, completely unsure how to respond. He made the motion again, and this time, you focused your powers on him to see if you could read his mind.

 

_ “What did you say?” _

 

Your eyes widened in shock. He couldn’t hear you. Your limbs were already shaking from exhaustion, but you mustered up the last of your strength to communicate with him.

_ “Are you Clint Barton?”  _ you spoke inside his mind.

 

And then you promptly passed out.

 

* * *

 

**Clint’s POV**

 

_ Okay, I know this looks bad… _

_ I mean, what are the chances a beautiful woman shows up at my door, right? Then, she can talk inside my head? As if those two things weren’t weird enough, now she’s unconscious. _

_ Great, Clint. Just great. _

_Thankfully I caught her before she hit the ground. I mean, I can’t let her get hurt, right? She must have come to me for a reason._ _And there’s something up with her and how she can get in my head like that._

_ I really gotta change the batteries in my hearing aides… _

 

* * *

 

**Y/N’s POV**

 

You felt someone staring at you as you slept. You slowly opened your eyes just a crack and were greeted with the sight of golden fur and a black, shiny nose. You opened your eyes all the way and gushed over your furry companion in the bed.

“Puppy!” you exclaimed gleefully. The dog thumped its tail on the mattress and climbed in your lap for some love. You eagerly pet the friendly dog, and one wet lick brought you back to reality.

Shit. You were still on the run.

You took careful observations of your surroundings as the dog hopped off the bed and went downstairs. You could see a metal staircase leading down the loft to what you assumed was the main floor. You peeked over the edge of the loft and saw complete chaos down below.

A purple couch sat behind a table covered in take out boxes. Arrows stood proudly against the pockmarked walls, and you could see a few black shirts scattered on the floor. But there was no sign of the blonde man from before.

You pulled the covers back and realized you weren’t in your own clothes. Loose, grey sweatpants hung comfortably on your hips, and you snuggled the soft material of “your” t-shirt up over your nose. It smelled faintly of aftershave and pizza, and you determined it wasn’t a bad smell at all.

“Oh, good, you’re awake.”

You pulled the t-shirt down and blushed as the blonde man from last night walked up the loft steps. His black eye had faded a bit, and he no longer wore the athletic tape over his face. You could now see various cuts and scrapes decorating his face. He held a dripping pot of coffee in his right hand, and a bagel in his left. Your stomach grumbled. When was the last time you had eaten?

“You can talk?” you asked.

“No, I’m just forming words and sentences out of thin air,” he shot back with a wry grin on his face.

Your already pink face turned a darker shade of red. “I just...last night...you used your hands…” You trailed off, not really sure how to continue.

Using his bagel hand, he tapped both his ears. You noticed two small devices curled around the tops of his ears.

“I’m partially deaf,” he explained. “Forgot to change the batteries in my hearing aides.”

“Oh,” you replied. Clearing your throat, you asked, “Are you Clint Barton?”

He chuckled and nodded. “That’s me. Unless it’s Simone asking. Then I’m not here.”

“Simone?” You scrunched your nose, and your eyes focused on the coffee pot in his hand. “Umm, your coffee is leaking.”

Clint stared forlornly at his broken pot. “Aww, coffee, no...” he whined.

You couldn’t help but giggle. “You’re weird.”

“And you’re cute.” Your mouth gaped open, and Clint realized what he had said. “I mean, I thought...we were, uh, stating things that were, you know, obvious,” he shrugged, trying to recover from his confession.

A silence hung in the room as Clint stuffed his bagel in his mouth to avoid any more embarrassing blunders.

“I need your help,” you finally said, focusing on your mission.

Clint nodded and sat on the edge of his bed. “Figured as much,” he concluded.

So you explained the whole story about your escape and the flash drives, which Clint had left undisturbed in your pant pocket. He nodded at the right moments, and didn’t look too surprised about your powers considering you had used them on him the night before.

“So can you help me get to the Avenger’s Tower?” you asked.

Clint pretended to think about it, and for a minute, you got nervous. Finally, he nodded. “Okay, I can help you,” he said. “One request though.” You looked at him expectantly. “Can you do the mind thing again?”

You bit your lip trying to hold back a smile. Your energy had returned, and you stole the rest of his bagel to give you some more fuel. As you were chewing, you thought of what you could say inside his head. You gave Clint a cheeky grin as you decided on your phrase.

 

_ “I think you’re cute too,” _ you said telepathically. 

 

Clint nearly choked on his coffee at your revelation. “Well, um…” he chuckled as his cheeks turned bright red. He cleared his throat a few times. “So it’s still...uh, kind of early to head over to the, um, Tower. We should, you know, wait a bit if we want anyone to be awake when we get there.” He put the coffee pot down and scooted closer towards you on the bed.

“And what should we do until then?” you asked suggestively, placing the last of the bagel on a decrepit nightstand. You thought of a few raunchier scenarios and displayed them in Clint’s mind. His breathing became labored, and his eyes bored hungrily into yours. Clearly, he approved.

Before you knew it, clothes were shed and your lips were crashing with Clint’s. Because why the hell not? He was cute, you were a recently escaped HYDRA captive, and you certainly hadn’t gotten any action during your time in their facilities. You relished in the feeling of his calloused hands all over your body, as if he was trying to memorize every inch of skin. He handled you gently, and you carded your hands in his blonde locks as you placed steamy kissed down his neck.

Soon, you were both tangled in the sheets, coming down from your post-orgasmic high. You let out a tired laugh as you kissed from his bare stomach all the way up to his lips. Just as you were about to go for round two (again, because why the hell not?) a loud banging interrupted your intimate moment.

“CLINT!” a woman’s voice shouted from behind the front door. “I know you’re in there!”

Clint groaned and rolled out of bed. “Shit, we gotta go.” He tossed you your borrowed clothes and quickly pulled his own back on.

You just stared at him with his blanket pulled up against your bare chest. “Seriously?” you asked incredulously.

“Seriously,” he echoed. He snapped his fingers. “Hurry up!”

You mumbled a few choice words under your breath as you got redressed and hurried down the stairs behind Clint. You made sure to grab the flash drives from your old clothes as well. The woman was still banging on the door as Clint gathered his bow and some arrows. He sighed in front of the door.

“Here we go,” he muttered as he opened it.

A gorgeous woman with dark skin and natural black hair stood in his doorway with her hands on her hips. Her brown eyes were lit with a fiery determination as she pointed her finger at Clint.

“There’s an arrow in our TV dish again,” she accused. “You gonna fix it or what? The boys have a show coming on they really want to watch.”

“Simone,” Clint explained as he pulled you out into the hallway, “I have no idea what happened to your TV dish.”

“Really,” she deadpanned, pointing to the arrows in the quiver strapped to his back.

“Not my arrows,” he replied with a shrug.

“Really.”

“Yes, really.”

“Clint Barton, you are the WORST landlord ever.”

Clint sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay, Simone, I’ll get someone to fix it. It’ll take a few hours though.”

It was as if Clint had said the magic words. Simone smiled and revealed two rows of perfectly shiny teeth. “Thanks, Clint,” she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “If you forget, I’ll cut your balls off.”

“Good to see you too, Simone!” Clint called as the two of you raced down the stairs and outside. You didn’t make it very far past the front door before he shoved you into a small alleyway next to the building.

“What the hell?” you exclaimed as your head met a hard brick wall. He covered your mouth and peeked carefully around the corner.

“Tracksuit Mafia,” he whispered.

“Tracksuit Mafia?” you asked, your voice muffled under his hand. He gave a curt nod and slowly removed his hand. “You mean the guys in the van?”

“Yeah,” he replied, trying to come up with a plan.

You thought back to what you overheard yesterday. “They talked about wanting to kill someone,” you informed him with a raised brow. “Any chance they were talking about you?”

“99.9% chance,” he confirmed.

“Seriously?” you gasped. “What did you do?”

Clint shrugged. “Just stole their building, beat up a few of their guys, the usual.”

“CLINT!” You sighed. “You are the most complicated guy I’ve slept with.”

His eyes lit up and he interlaced your fingers with his. “That’s it!” He pulled you out into the open and began kissing you in front of the van. You had no idea what was going on, but you played along, biting his lower lip and sliding your tongue into his mouth.

You could hear whoops and cheers from the Tracksuit Mafia.

“Is that Clint Barton, bro?”

“Yeah, bro, and he’s getting some action! What a way to go before dying, bro!”

Clint smiled against your lips and pulled back a bit. “Get ready to duck,” he said between kisses. His hands disappeared from your waist and you felt his body shimmy against yours.

The Tracksuit Mafia was getting bored of your little show by this point.

“Let’s just kill them both, bro,” you heard one of them say.

Clint pulled back completely. “DUCK!” he shouted, revealing his armed bow. You knelt down and cowered against him as he shot an arrow directly into the side of the van. It beeped urgently as one of the Tracksuit Mafia tried to pry it out of the warped metal.

Clint tugged you towards the opposite side of the street to a small car. You had just opened the door when a loud explosion drew your attention back to the van. It had been consumed by a huge fireball, and the Mafia was running frantically around their precious vehicle, trying to figure out how to quell the flames.

Clint started the engine and tires squealed as you raced away from the scene.

“YOU’LL PAY FOR THIS, BRO!” one of them shouted.

You cheered as you left the Tracksuit Mafia in your dust. Clint seemed proud of himself as he maneuvered the car through the tight streets of New York. Before you knew it, Clint was pulling up to an enormous tower with the letter A emblazoned near the top. You gulped nervously as he parked the car. What if they didn’t believe you? What if they didn’t trust you? What if-?

“Don’t worry,” Clint reassured you. “These guys are good people.”

You nodded as you prepared to change the entire course of your future.

 

* * *

 

Steve Rogers stared at you carefully as you finished telling your story. Tony Stark reached across the table and handed Nat the flash drives you had placed in front of you. Nat hummed thoughtfully as she plugged them into her laptop to make sure your intel was good.

“Looks like there’s HYDRA bases still in New York,” she murmured, frantically clicking her mouse. “And there’s some new names we don’t have in our database yet.” Her eyes narrowed and widened as she dug some more. “No viruses or tracking software on the flash drives, so it’s not a trap.” She glanced up at you. “I’d say she’s legit.”

Steve considered Nat’s words as he continued to study you. “You interested in helping us out?” he finally asked, folding his hands under his chin.

“I’m really interested in not dying,” you admitted. “And not being held captive anymore.”

Steve let out a small chuckle. “Fair enough.” He held out his hand for you to shake. “Welcome to the team.”

You let out a huge breath you didn’t even realize you were holding and felt Clint squeeze your knee under the table.

Tony clapped his hands and got right to business. “There’s a few empty rooms you can choose from. The one on the fourth floor has fantastic views-”

Clint cleared his throat. “Actually,” he interrupted. “She can stay with me.” He turned to you, and you couldn’t keep the surprise off your face. “If you want to,” he added.

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered, blushing profusely. Nat glanced between you and her best friend and grinned slyly.

Tony and Steve began talking about the details of your new life, but you had completely tuned them out.

 

_ You really want me to stay?  _ you asked Clint silently.

 

_ Absolutely,  _ he thought clearly.  _ If you can handle the craziness that is.  _ So apparently he didn’t want it to be just a fling either. You could definitely live with that.

 

_ Oh trust me, I can handle crazy.  _

 

“And that about wraps it up,” Tony announced. “Any questions?”

You focused your attention back to the room. “Nope,” you replied. “Thank you so much.”

“Any time,” Steve said warmly.

Just as you and Clint were about to leave, he turned around to face Tony. “Hey, Stark, you think you could swing by my building and fix a cable dish?”

Tony let out an exasperated sigh. “Seriously, Barton? Again?”

“It was an accident!” Clint insisted. “Please? I’ve gotta get Simone off my back.”

Tony caved. “Fine! I’ll come over in an hour.” He turned to you. “Are you sure you want to deal with him?” he asked.

You smiled and interlaced your fingers with Clint’s as you gave him a wink.

“I think I can handle it.”


End file.
